


Snapshots: 30 Day OTP Challenge

by Espisayer



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espisayer/pseuds/Espisayer
Summary: A series of kaijou prompt fics following the 30 day OTP challenge list.Tags are kept to a minimum to save your eyes. I'll be leaving snippets for each prompt inside the chapter summary. Rating will change if necessary.
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Holding Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed something I could work on in bite-sized pieces because I haven’t had the energy to work on anything longer, and remembered [sky_kaijou’s fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583835/chapters/23391735#workskin). I didn’t even know this prompt list existed until I read it yeep
> 
> I'll update as I finish the prompts. Also! Each prompt isn't necessarily "connected."
> 
> Prompt 1: Holding Hands  
> Length: ~1000 words  
> Pre-relationship, fluff, a lil drinking

At first, Jounouchi is just obnoxious.

He’s a restless thrum of energy expected to stay seated for hours upon hours every day. Constantly rolling things off his desk or flicking them across the room when the teacher isn’t looking. Sometimes mindlessly, sometimes with a target in mind.

Sometimes arbitrarily-folded pieces of paper find their way to him, a fly-by that barely brushes with the corner of his desk, or a soft tumble that manages to stick the landing. He brushes those off. Jounouchi is aiming for someone else. Except he isn’t, and Jounouchi makes a detour at the end of class to conspicuously drop an unfolded wad of paper onto his closed textbook. He and Seto stare each other down in stubborn contention, until Jounouchi’s friends call for him.

Seto only looks when he’s left.

“u suk”

He’s gratuitously obnoxious.

Seto slips the note in Honda’s desk as a form of retaliation.

He doesn’t see the aftermath, but Jounouchi hollers at him the next time they cross paths in the hall, and throws in a shoulder-check, to make certain Seto can’t ignore him.

But he doesn’t check with enough force to really _move_ him. He doesn’t try hard enough.

Seto still tenses over it. The feeling bleeds under his skin with a prickly sensation. No one makes contact with him but Mokuba.

Not that Jounouchi notices. “Fight your own battles,” he says. “Coward.”

He wrinkles his nose. “What do you want me to do? Pass an equally stupid note, like children in grade school?”

“Well, duh.”

So Jounouchi continues to leave little pieces of paper on his desk. Each one is stupider than the last… he’s sure. He doesn’t actually look at them, he’s sure this is a simple test of patience and he’s intent to beat Jounouchi out.

The longer Seto tries to ignore him, the shorter and shorter the intervals are between the times Jounouchi spends needling him.

Persistently obnoxious.

He bumps shoulders, pinches his arm, sometimes kicks his shoe in passing. Once, pushes his head in a way that feels particularly reminiscent of an elementary schooler. And when Seto isn’t content to be silent (he tries, it’s difficult), he complains, and Jounouchi grins, and Jounouchi is anything but dissuaded. Seto could explicitly tell him to stop, but he doesn’t think about it.

He’s not thinking about the why: why he lets Jounouchi get away with stepping into his personal space; why it doesn’t bother him as much as it should; or how he gradually stops feeling needles poking under his skin when Jounouchi stands too close. Or why Jounouchi goes out of his way to bother him so much in the first place.

Even after Seto stops coming to school, Jounouchi… well, Jounouchi and his friends, they’re always still _there_. He doesn’t understand it, but he’s stopped questioning this, too, and moved on to more of a… passive acceptance that they’ve made themselves a fixture.

At least, Mokuba made it that way. Mostly it’s Mokuba, he thinks. Because it’s his brother whose needling eventually drags him out of his home office to where he’s let them invade the Kaiba mansion, conglomerating like a fungus in the den to watch a movie, or play games.

The first time he catches them trying to smuggle drinks, they have the audacity to be surprised by the fact that he isn’t that resistant to joining. No, he doesn’t drink much, but if anyone’s surprised it should be the other way around.

Or maybe not. Apparently Jounouchi and Honda had been part of a gang in middle school. Well, people let loose interesting things while inebriated.

Jounouchi quirks a smile that lies somewhere between coy and sheepish, he’s not sure, and says, “What, like I don’t look like a delinquent to you?”

And Seto is briefly distracted by Jounouchi swatting at his knees, from his seat on the floor to where Seto is laying on and taking over the entire couch. He already feels warm and loose-limbed from the alcohol, probably more than he should in a group of people. But Anzu and Yugi are all but passed out and Honda is still trying to pay attention to the movie in a glaze.

He doesn’t feel the usual knots in his shoulders, and no one is paying them any attention, and he says, “Good point,” while he swats Jounouchi back, in the side of the head.

Jounouchi spins and makes a face, purses his lips and Seto thinks he says something but suddenly he’s struck with the thought that _Jounouchi is cute_. And it feels ridiculous, coming from himself; it bubbles up from his stomach and splits his mouth into a smirk, an almost-laugh, at Jounouchi and this look on his face, or how it morphs into something like he’s been scandalized. Jounouchi tries to start a slap-fight. Seto only engages halfheartedly.

Seto catches his hand before he huffs and turns away, on a whim he placates himself with. It’s bony, a little rough, scabs on his knuckles as if he’s gotten into a fight just a few days ago. His own feels too smooth and cold in comparison but Jounouchi’s makes him feel warm. So maybe he holds onto it, for the first time he lets himself reciprocate one of Jounouchi’s mindless touches, for longer than necessary.

He doesn’t notice that Jounouchi hasn’t even been drinking, or that his flush isn’t because of any alcohol. Just that, eventually, instead of being stiff and twitchy, Jounouchi’s callused fingers slide between his and he starts to realize he may have had too much to drink because he feels strange and woozy all of the sudden.

But he doesn’t dislike it.

Seto doesn’t remember falling asleep. Mokuba shakes him awake for breakfast in the morning, and everyone else is gone. He remembers last night and feels a ghost holding his hand.

Except it’s not a ghost. It’s an obnoxious slip of paper. It has a phone number on it and Seto thinks that maybe he should have returned Jounouchi’s notes after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t usually use present tense but it's starting to grow on me? probably thanks to [phant0m.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phant0m/pseuds/phant0m) (highly recommend. Like pretty much anything on their works page.)
> 
> On the other hand it really fucked me up when I switched back to past-tense on the next prompt... won't be doing that again soon


	2. Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Cuddling somewhere  
> Length: ~1800 words  
> Muddy relationship, fluff, misunderstanding

_[Come to the mansion after work today. Be prepared to spend the night.]_

Jounouchi was bound to break out into hives before he even got there.

Kaiba was usually better about this, keeping his mixed messages to frustrating in-person interactions. Calling Jounouchi obnoxious while allowing him to sidle into his personal space; complain about his shoes laying around but had yet to kick him out; kiss him but had yet to admit, or at least vocalize, that he _liked_ Jounouchi, let alone what the hell they _were_.

But his texts. Rarely did they read as anything other than crystal-clear marching orders.

This one still sounded like a marching order― _but for what?_

Asking for clarification… might’ve been the smart thing to do. It hadn’t occurred to him, he was too busy sweating under his collar over the implications. Maybe he just had his head in the gutter. Somehow, asking his friends for advice―hypothetically, of course―had seemed like a good idea. It wasn’t.

Honda, and his unending wisdom, _hypothetically_ declared, “Yeah, you’re totally getting laid. So, you know…” with some awkward gesturing, “go prepared.”

Anzu swiftly swatted him―arguing, _hypothetically_ , “Don’t _assume_ that! It sounds like it could just be a date.” Then she took a moment to consider. “You _are_ dating this… person?”

“Yeah,” he’d said without thinking, itching his arm. Frowning. “I mean, kinda. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s… weird right now.”

He wasn’t trying to think about that part.

It was fine. He could figure it out himself.

Anyway, it wasn’t like he hadn’t _thought_ about it.

Because he had. This… _thing_ , with Kaiba, whatever it was, had only been going on for a few months and when they kissed was few and far in between. But when they did, when he wasn’t reeling, something heated squirmed in his stomach. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Or completely unwarranted in the middle of the day. Or before they’d ever even…

See, _the thing_ was that he didn’t want the _big warning sign_ that gave him all day to tie himself into knots. Because now he was waiting for the gate to open, fidgeting back and forth on his heels, wondering when he was going to get over these nerves skittering up his spine and his arms and leaving trails of goosebumps.

So when he was made to wait in the foyer for several minutes, each one dragging on longer than the next and compounding on his nerves―he was ready to snap when Kaiba finally decided to show his face.

“Hey―”

But Kaiba looked like he’d just dragged himself out of bed. Or maybe he’d been in bed for several days; with his pallor, bedraggled hair and crumpled clothes, the way he squinted at the overhead light. It wormed the irritation out of him before he could finish, “―what the hell happened to you?”

Kaiba attempted to put on a glower but it was watered down by how his voice dragged around the word, “Migraine.” He exhaled before beginning to say something else, but then narrowed his eyes at Jounouchi, in that particular way that told him he’d done something stupid. “Where is the game? You didn’t bring it with you?”

Jounouchi blinked. “Uh… what―”

Oh. Right. That. 

The game Kaiba had been slaving over for the last two months. The game Jounouchi was helping him beta test to keep it out of corporate because it was for Mokuba’s birthday.

That.

He was such an idiot.

“You didn’t _lose it_ , did you?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, before Kaiba got really pissed, “nothin’ like that. I just… forgot… I guess.” He wiped his hands over his sides as a soft wave of shame washed over him. “Sorry.”

“You _forgot?_ ” He shouldn’t be able to feel Kaiba’s eyes sharpen on him, prickle his skin like static, but he did. “How could you forget that?”

Rather than answering, Jounouchi shrugged and shifted around awkwardly. It wasn’t like he could tell Kaiba he’d been so submerged by the unclear semantics of being invited to spend the night that this project had completely slipped his mind.

Kaiba pressed his lips together and drew his eyes toward the ceiling―and then snapped them shut against the light. He took a deep breath before responding. “Fine. You might as well go home, then.”

Jounouchi stalled. “Uh… H-Hold on a sec.” Despite the urge to go slink out the door and crawl under something, getting kicked out didn’t feel right, either. “I mean, I’m already here… so…”

“So you can loiter around and watch me work in silence for several hours? You can hardly sit still for ten minutes,” Kaiba grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Come back tomorrow. Do you have work again?”

“Uh… No? Tomorrow’s _Saturday_.”

Was it Kaiba’s obsessive work ethic that was more ghastly or the fact that he’d lost track of the days of the week?

“I know _that_ ,” he snapped, but Jounouchi could tell it was a fib by the way he stiffened. “People work on the weekend.”

“Yeah… Sometimes they’re crazy people who can’t just buy their brother a birthday present like a normal person.”

He couldn’t help it, the banter always came naturally with Kaiba, but he regretted the way it made him bristle. “Mokuba already has―”

“I know, I know,” he said, “it’s sweet and everything, but I think your little brother would appreciate it more if you didn’t kill yourself over it.” He made a decision, and closed the distance between them, laying a hand on the small of Kaiba’s back and giving him a well-intentioned push out of the foyer.

“I’m not…” Kaiba had been so geared up for a comeback that he visibly stalled at the redirection. “What are you doing?”

“Making you take a break. You look kinda sick.”

“I’m fine.” The muscles in his back were tense, and he slowed at the bottom of the staircase.

“You’re not gonna be by the time you’re through starin’ at screens all night with a migraine.” Dumbass. “ _C’mon,_ Kaiba _._ ”

Kaiba huffed, maybe tried to work up to a glare again but this close, the dark circles under his eyes were very prominent and Jounouchi just wanted him to sleep. He was on a mission now.

“I already tried to sleep it off,” Kaiba sighed. “It’s a waste of time.”

“Then try harder.”

He would challenge Kaiba over who had more energy left to argue about this, but he was afraid (and sure) Kaiba would take him up on it.

Instead, Jounouchi started hustling him up the stairs. By the time they reached the landing, Kaiba’s shoulders sagged with resignation and he dragged his feet, rather than pushing away. He had to lend that fortune to the migraine.

It was probably, mostly luck that landed him on the right path to Kaiba’s room. (He’d only been there a few times… Now wasn’t the time to think about that.) The drawn curtains and misplaced sheets told him Kaiba at least hadn’t been fibbing about trying to sleep earlier.

The door shut with a soft click. Even in the dark, he could feel Kaiba telegraphing an unimpressed message with his eyes. “What, you’re going to supervise me?”

“Yeah, so you don’t go back to work as soon as I turn around.”

“This isn’t necessary.”

“Sorry, Kaiba, but until you turn yourself into some kinda cyborg, I think humans do usually need sleep.”

When Kaiba went quiet, he gave him another nudge. He felt his shoulders square a bit, with a small intake of breath. “I don’t just lie down and fall asleep, Jounouchi. On a normal night.”

“Okay… What, is that supposed to surprise me?” Was he still trying to talk him out of it? “Not like I got anywhere to be. Just try to rest a little,” he said, “that’s all I’m askin’.” Jounouchi gave him one last push. Gentler. Less of a push and more of a squeeze on the shoulder. 

Any compromise from Kaiba was like a little victory, a series of small-scale battles that would eventually wear the fortress away. Like now, as Kaiba resigned himself to his migraine and suspended the argument, dragging himself across the room to lie down over the covers.

Well, that was phase one. Perhaps, snatching away the phone that Kaiba had tried to pull out was pushing his luck. Jounouchi might not admit it out loud, but he felt like this entire, unspoken thing was pushing his luck. So he didn’t often hesitate. (He wouldn’t be here if he had.)

“Jounouchi―” Kaiba warned, and Jounouchi felt the bristle as he rolled the rest of his body onto the bed to settle beside him. Their elbows knocked together and Kaiba drew back in annoyance.

“Damn, can you really not sleep in this thing? It’s like a big fuckin’ cloud.” Not to be discouraged, he reached out in the dark and linked their arms together, “I’ll take it off your hands if you don’t want it,” smiling to himself when Kaiba blew air through his nose and didn’t shake him off. 

“It wouldn’t fit _anywhere_ in your apartment,” Kaiba muttered indignantly, as if he had been at all serious. Jounouchi was more interested in how nice it was to listen to the soft rumble of his voice, this close.

He fought with the idea of pushing it a bit further. “Yeah,” he agreed, sliding his fingers between Kaiba’s and feeling the stiffness that was always there, gradually ebb away. “You did invite me to stay the night, though…”

Kaiba could have easily rebuffed him without doing much damage, with everything up in limbo, but he said nothing. Jounouchi was always sure if he had a grievance he would make it known.

He just wished Kaiba was a little damn clearer about what he _did_ want.

At least, for now, he could be happy enough when Kaiba gave a little, “I guess I did,” and he took a little more, peeling Kaiba’s arm up and over so he could turn to lay his head on his shoulder.

Jounouchi would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t still a bit clammy-handed, or that his neck wasn’t covered in goosebumps. But in the heavy blanket of darkness and the quiet, where they lay now, he took a bit of giddy consolation in the sound of a quickening rhythm beating at his ear.

Maybe he was a little hazy when he stirred in the middle of the night, but he thought he felt the lingering touch of fingers warming the nape of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the morning, Jounouchi makes a joke, tries to be all charming and cuddly, meanwhile―
> 
> Kaiba: *pulls a condom out of his pocket* what the fuck is this?
> 
> Jounouchi: ...i can explain
> 
> Anyway I swear I’m not trying to cop out by having the prompt at the end instead of spending more time with it but I'm trying not to overthink these prompts. (That's not going so well so far.)


	3. Watching a movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Gaming/watching a movie  
> “Normal” AU, pre-relationship, awkward highschool crush, self-consciousness at its finest, fluff (again yes. but angst is to come)  
> Length: ~1800 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein we continue my prompt fic where I cannot feasibly contain myself to less than 1,000 words, almost breaking 2,000 again.

Jounouchi always looked forward to the weekend.

Ever since middle school, his friends always gave him an excuse to get out of the house. There was always something to do, somewhere to go. The movies, the arcade, the mall―they’d even gather at Yugi’s house, or the park if the weather was nice, so he could try to indoctrinate them into his nerdy trading card games.

Card games weren’t really his thing, but… he got the hang of it eventually. For Yugi.

It was definitely because of Yugi, and _not_ the new friend Yugi made when their classes had gotten shuffled around when they’d started high school.

The weird, quiet, prickly, gangly kid that was _not_ insanely hot, that Jounouchi had definitely _not_ gotten stuck sitting behind, who he _definitely didn’t_ spend way too much time in class thinking about.

Who his friends totally didn’t know he had a ridiculously stupid crush on.

Because if they knew, then they’d try to sabotage his weekend. They’d ruin a movie he’d been looking forward to for months by inviting Kaiba, who actually showed up for some godforsaken reason, and graciously leave him with the only open seat.

They were all dead.

A solid metal _thunk_ snapped at his attention, where Kaiba was cursing under his breath and hobbling the one step left into his seat. Jounouchi let himself break out a slightly twitchy smile and managed to make eye contact, for at least a second rather than avoiding it altogether.

Then, while Kaiba was huffing something about hating movie theaters, he did a double-take, “Since when do you wear glasses?”

Kaiba paused, fixing him with a stare that told him he’d asked a stupid question. Okay, yeah, fine, it was dumb. He was dumb. He knew he was because there was nothing special about the glasses. It was, just different; something to refresh his stupid, stupid habit of staring at Kaiba’s face and forgetting to talk.

“I’m nearsighted,” Kaiba replied tepidly.

“Oh.” He felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. Fine. Let it melt him into a puddle. His brain was already halfway there.

The ads cycled through and Jounouchi tried to listen to them, he tried to listen to his friends chattering in the row below, but all of his attention was being spent on trying not to brush arms too many times while Kaiba was shuffling around beside him. Eventually he crossed his legs so they weren’t touching the seat in front at all, and it vaguely reminded Jounouchi of someone trying to fit into a go-cart. Kaiba did have long legs. Like, damn.

Fuck, why was he thinking about this. Jounouchi stopped himself from rapidly tapping the toe of his shoe on the floor, and spared a glance at Kaiba―regretting it when he was met with instant eye contact.

Were the ads always this long? 

Swiftly, his eyes darted away (chicken) and he tried to be just as swift in pretending his stomach hadn’t just flipped three times. “Uhm,” he cleared his throat, angling a popcorn bowl that suddenly felt like the biggest fucking eyesore, going to lengths to ignore the pieces that tumbled over onto the ground, “got too much… if you want any.” 

“I don’t like popcorn.”

Fuck.

“Okay, sure.” He tried to laugh. It got caught in his throat. “I s’pose you don’t like candy, either.”

“Not really.”

 _What the fuck_. “Are you serious? Fuck. Is there anything you _do_ like?” Jounouchi blurted before he could stop himself, absently sinking back in his seat and wishing he could fuse into it.

Maybe he was about to find out that Kaiba ate dumb, puddle-brained scrubs for breakfast, he thought, as a piece of popcorn rebounded off his face.

Bewildered, Jounouchi stared, unfocused on the screen. That wasn’t Kaiba. Right? But somehow, it felt very convenient of him to be absorbed in his phone when Jounouchi passed another glance.

At the same time, the overhead lights began to dim, he realized by the way the electronic light glowed mesmerically over Kaiba’s face, bounced off his glasses―and then the surround sound boomed through the theater and he flinched forward in his seat.

Briefly, he scanned his row of friends in the front. None of them were looking back at him.

There was no way he was going to make it out of here without risking further humiliation. So… might as well let it happen.

He proceeded to _accidentally_ dump a cascade of popcorn into Kaiba’s lap, watching him, out of the corner of his eye, become very still. If the darkness wasn’t playing tricks on him, he thought he saw the corner of Kaiba’s lip quirk, just before sighing pointedly and beginning to dust the contents off his legs.

As Jounouchi was resettling his focus on the screen, Kaiba kicked him in the foot.

Okay. Okay, maybe he could live through this.

His friends still wouldn’t. But he would.

Not much longer and the movie was starting, and was there ever a better time for an unapologetically, disgustingly loud action-thriller? He liked his head better empty, anyway.

Kaiba turned out to be silent as a grave, no matter what was happening on-screen. A few furtive glances told Jounouchi he was watching, though “paying attention” might’ve been a stretch. Thirty minutes in, and he looked like his eyes could glaze over at any moment.

So, why was Jounouchi particularly surprised to look over and find him sleeping? Maybe it had something to do with the guns, the screams of terror, or an explosion or two or three that made his own ears ring. Fucking unbelievable.

Jounouchi was so tempted to shake him awake. That was almost fun for a second.

But he took too long to work up the nerve, spent too much time trying to think of something witty to say, when he felt Kaiba’s weight drift onto his shoulder.

The surprise car explosion on-screen made his pulse race furiously. It pulsed in his ears. Damn, this theater was too loud. How the _fuck_ was Kaiba _sleeping_.

Shit. Fuck. What now? He couldn’t wake him up _now_. But if he didn’t, was that weird? Well, Kaiba already _knew_ he was weird. But if he knew it was the brain-smearing, clammy-handed-crush kind of weird, he’d…

Okay, he had to wake Kaiba up. He had to.

He hesitated. First at the crooked way Kaiba’s glasses were sliding off his face. It tugged a smile out of the corner of his mouth. Second, when it struck him as unusually peaceful. If you could even ever describe Kaiba as peaceful. Which he definitely wouldn’t, though maybe that was a reason to let him sleep.

Again, there was nothing particularly special about seeing Kaiba asleep. Yet…

And then the glasses were slipping off the bridge of his nose and falling―and Jounouchi flinched, grabbing for them, without thinking it wasn’t worth jostling Kaiba for. And yet, here he was with Kaiba’s glasses, watching his eyes stutter open in confusion.

The weight on his shoulder felt twice as heavy and he might have started holding his breath. He could imagine himself in a cartoon, flinging the glasses three rows away and pretending he never saw them.

“Uhm,” he mumbled while Kaiba straightened only enough to make eye contact, “you―you fell asleep…”

Kaiba blinked at him like a cat. Almost like he was choosing his words, but all he said was, “Oh.”

“I don’t even know how that’s possible. I mean, I can barely hear myself right now.” He fidgeted with the hinges, watching Kaiba watch him, saying nothing. A fluster of anxiety tingled up his spine and his chest and he grasped for an antic to distract himself. In this case, sliding Kaiba’s glasses onto his own face. “Like, you’ve gotta be the heaviest sleeper I’ve ever met… or somethin’.”

With a considerable pause, Kaiba supplied, “No,” and the longer he did so, the harder it was for Jounouchi to ignore the blurriness and his own incoherent stupidity. “Action films just tend to bore me.”

“You―” He inhaled― _the absurdity!_ ―feeling lightheaded, and tried to refocus his eyes on Kaiba’s face. “You’re serious. You’re serious?”

“Yes?” 

“But―how do you―” His breath stuttered. “You don’t like theaters, or popcorn, or candy, now you’re telling me you don’t like action movies, either―so―so why the fuck are you here, Kaiba?”

They were still too close and it was too dark but he swore he could see little flecks of brown in his very blue eyes, glinting with amusement and it lit Jounouchi’s chest with irritation and a little hysteria.

“You’re much more entertaining than the movie.”

“I’m―”

Wait.

_You._

What did that mean? _He knew. Did he know?_ He must have. _What did it mean?_ While Kaiba reached out toward his face, his brain stopped working altogether.

At least, Jounouchi told himself that it had, there wasn’t a better explanation for why he lurched forward to kiss him. But the glasses tipping off his nose knocked into Kaiba’s and they barely brushed lips before the collision.

Everything wound down to a complete halt. He hadn’t really just done that.

Which meant Kaiba definitely hadn’t just snorted at him, but then he was just too close not to notice. Searing heat flooded his face and swelled his tongue, and he watched in slow motion as Kaiba, whose fingers rested next to his ear, continued to pull the glasses off his face.

He fucked up.

He _so_ fucked up―

“I’m sorry―” he stammered.

“Hush.”

Where he’d seemed to linger unnecessarily long before, Kaiba was suddenly pulling away and Jounouchi realized with a jolt that the movie was… fucking over. The credits were rolling and he could see his friends starting to stand up and stretch, and he… He must be having a fever dream.

His legs felt like jelly but he managed not to trip over himself, moving robotically. His melted gears spun so slowly that he and Kaiba turned out behind everyone else and still he felt compelled to say… something. Anything.

“Kaiba,” he whispered. His throat felt raw. “Wait. What just… I just…”

“Not here,” Kaiba hissed in his ear, and he nearly tripped over his shoelaces. He felt the sting of Kaiba’s grip on his arm, felt it linger after he let go. “I’ll see you at school.”

Wracked with embarrassment and confusion and a maddening cross between hopefulness and hopelessness, Jounouchi bit his lip and nodded numbly.

As soon as Kaiba left them outside of the theater, Honda threw an arm over his shoulder.

“So… do you remember anything about the movie, at all, or―?”

“You’re all fucking dead to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why but I struggled to write this one the way I pictured it in my head. At this point I’m just hoping it’s not 1800 words of totally jumbled brain rot. And that I rotted at least one of your teeth in the process.


End file.
